36. Chapter 36
T he last day of classes went by in a blur. I think it's safe to say that the anxiety I've been feeling all day was crippling. Not only have things been tense in our apartment since our secret was revealed, but the tension is wound so tight I'm surprised it didn't detonate. The group of teammates I view as brothers won't acknowledge me.
The drills were punishing, and the walkthrough was spent going through the motions—no banter, no celebrations, only the necessities. I felt like I had been banished from the team. And for what reason? Loving the coach's daughter because that's what the truth is. Along the way, I fell headfirst into Bret Campbell, and my love for her runs deep. There isn't anything I wouldn't do for her. She's more than a fling, a hookup. She's the woman I want to stand beside for the rest of my life.
Bret brings calm to the chaos of being a student-athlete. She makes me feel seen when I feel like I'm floating through the mundane. And if Grant would give me two seconds of his time, he would know that, too.
At the beginning of our relationship, I was terrified to tell her brother. Scared of what his reaction would be. But with everything out in the open, I couldn't believe how childish I had been. I never should have been afraid of confronting him. As a big brother myself, I would have wanted to know that my sister was being treated with respect and shown what it's like to be with a man who loves her and shows her how valuable her worth is. That's precisely what I've given Bret, and if he can't see that, he has to live with that.
The only good thing about this day is that the video game concept Eric, Lauren, and I have been working on for the past four weeks has passed the class with top honors. Professor Ramirez was so impressed with our presentation that he informed us he would contact a friend of his who might be interested in purchasing our concept. Talk about a breath of fresh air in an otherwise shitty day.
Climbing the stairs to the apartment, I'm ready to spend the night in my room to avoid the awkwardness of our home. The other day, when Bret left and spent the entire afternoon with her brother, I sat the guys down and tried to explain everything. It was obvious that they were pissed. I mean, I can't blame them. For the last three months, Bret and I had been sneaking around, sharing secret touches and glances all behind their backs.
Since then, everyone has been steering clear of everyone. Even Bret has been quieter than usual. She explained that her conversation with her brother went fine, but fine doesn't mean you should avoid your boyfriend.
With a deep exhale, I push through the door and prepare for battle. Tossing my keys on the table, I step further into the apartment and find Bret and Harris cooking in the kitchen. Well, Bret is supervising from where she sits on the counter. She smiles warmly at me while Harris spares me a glance before returning to the vegetables he's cooking. Soy sauce and garlic waft from the sizzling pan.
Leaving the two in the kitchen, not wanting to interrupt their bubble since it seems they've managed to sort out their issues. Harris doesn't appear to be giving her the cold shoulder he's given me the past two days. He must be reserving all of the ice for me .
Stepping inside my room, I toss my backpack toward my desk and fish out my phone from my pocket. Flopping on my bed, the bland walls feel smothering as if they are closing around me. Suffocating me, leaving me fighting for air.
Scrolling through my messages, my thumb hovers over my brother's name. Since he returned home a few weeks ago, Jett's been making a genuine attempt at fixing our relationship. He sends a text every day.
Some days he's updating me on life in Silo Bay. The town prepared a welcome home parade, which I knew they would do something. Streets were lined with people waving the American flag as the high school band, with the help of the local police station, helped escort Jett into town. It was a true patriotic display welcoming home a local hero. While almost everyone has welcomed him home with wide arms, others aren't so quick to forget the trouble he caused in high school. Oh, the joys of small-town life.
Other days, he's sending me updates on Riggs Cattle and how the farm is doing as winter knocks on Ohio's doors. He shares the financial projections and the steps he and Grandpa have taken to prepare for winter calving. There are also updates on how much Grandpa and the rooster do not get along. Those stories always make me laugh. I still can't figure out why Grandpa keeps the bastard around. Jett talks about mending his relationship with Mom and how he disapproves of Saylor's friends she's running around with. It's comical how he stepped into such a protective big brother role, considering the trouble he and his friends caused around town.
More times than not, Jett has reached out to simply ask how I'm doing. If classes are going well or if I'm prepared for a game. He also asks about Bret and if I'm ready to admit to everyone that she's more than just a friend. It doesn't help that Mom and Saylor have been feeding him their theories. I've got to love the meddling women in my life.
Me: You were right.
Closing the screen, I no sooner lay it on my chest before it vibrates. Holding the screen in the air above my face, I swipe open the new message.
Jett: I usually am, but what about this time?
Me: My secret relationship with Bret blew up in our faces.
Jett: I told you. Secrets always come around and bite you in the ass.
Me: Yeah, well, my teammates aren't speaking to me, and I'm 98% certain Grant wants to punch me.
Jett: As he should.
Me: Well fuck you too.
Jett: Listen, I'm saying if my friend were sneaking around with my little sister, I'd be pissed too. He trusted you and welcomed you into his life, and you betrayed that trust.
Well, fuck. Reading that text message felt like a punch to the gut.
Jett: Give him time to cool off and then talk to him. Explain that it's more than just a casual fuck. Tell him how you feel about her. Don't be afraid to be vulnerable. It'll all work out in the end, little brother.
Me: When the fuck did you become so wise beyond your years?
Jett: I've had my heart broken before…
Jett: Talk later. Grandpa is fighting with the fucking rooster again .
Tapping the phone against my chin, I ponder his thoughts. Giving Grant space seems like the best option. However, I have to deal with him every day, and we leave for the conference championship game tomorrow. I want to win Saturday, and I don't want the animosity I caused seeping onto the field. This is what Bret's biggest fear was with our relationship, and it's come to full fruition.
Commotion from the living room snaps me from where I'm lost in my head. Raised voices and shouts have my feet hitting the ground as the terror that Bret's ex has stumbled upon our apartment. Ripping open the door hard enough to feel like I pulled from the hinges, I face a heated Grant.
His attention turns from Bret to where I'm standing. I barely have time to recognize the anger—and hurt—in his eyes before he storms toward me. His steps are quick, like a bull chasing a matador's waving red flag. Refusing to back down, I wait for the verbal lashing. Only the verbal spars never come. Grant's fist flies through the air, slamming into my jaw like a freight train. My head snaps back at the jarring, unexpected hit as I stumble backward. Pain erupts across my face.
Gasps fly from Bret's mouth as curses come from Harris and JP from where they're standing a few feet away. Their sounds barely register as the shock causes my brain to delay for a few seconds. The bitter and metallic taste hits my taste buds as blood coats my tongue from running over the spot where he cracked open on my lip.
Wiping the blood off my lip with the back of my hand, I stare at the man in front of me, stunned. My teammate. My friend. My brother.
Grant's chest heaves as his fists remain clenched at his sides. His eyes stare back at me, and it's then that I see more than anger. This punch wasn't intended to hurt me. It was the final display of how he felt. Betrayed.
Everything my brother said was right. Since I've known him, Grant has done nothing but try to protect his sister. He's lost sleep worrying about her, missing her, and wanting to watch over her, hating that she was hundreds of miles away. He warned us, wanting her off limits to his teammates who have only shown him our fuckboy ways time and time again. Even if I wasn't one of the guys who hooked up with every girl under the sun, I still laughed and joked around with the guys. I'm not saying I've been a saint by any means.
As crimson blood drips from my lip, I realize that I have to prove myself to him. I have to show him that Bret was never another notch on my bedpost. While she was supposed to be off limits, her heart called to mine, and she stole it from my chest.
On the field, my job has always been to provide the pass protection, but in loving her, my job is protecting her and keeping her safe. She's the end for me .
Bret's sliding in between the two of us, tears streaming down her face. The sight has my knees quaking. "Stop," she pleads, but his eyes never leave mine. "Grant, please."
The glare he sends would have a lesser man cowering in the corner, but I refuse to back down. I know he's pissed, but I'm all in with her. "I love her, man."
Grant's body thrums as his fists clench again. He takes a step toward me, which causes Bret to place her hands on his chest. Harris comes between us, and JP moves behind Grant. "C'mon, man," Harris says. "Go cool off. You need to get ice on your hand, or you won't be worth shit Saturday."
"Fuck the game," Grant hisses. This entire season is imploding, and I can't help but feel like the catalyst.
JP pushes Grant, encouraging him to move toward the door. "Enough. Harris is right. You need to chill the fuck out."
Jerking his arm free, Grant casts one last look over his shoulder as he stares at Bret. With a disappointed head shake, he leaves our apartment. Bret breaks down, sobs ripping from her chest as I pull her into my arms. Tears soak through my shirt, and I feel her heartbreak.
Is this going to be the end of us?
Are we going to withstand this storm?
"Here." Harris stands before me, holding an ice pack in his hand. "Put this on your face before you bruise."
Taking the cold gel pack, I place it on my jaw and rub circles on Bret's back. Her sniffles quiet as her red-rimmed eyes stare up at me. With tentative fingers, she traces the cut on my lip.
"I can't believe he punched you."
"You understand how much your brother cares about you."
"Listen," JP sympathetically says as he returns to the living room. "You need to fix this. I'm not going out like this. "
Queasiness covers Harris's features as he nods in agreement. One thing Tyler doesn't do well is conflict. He's the peacekeeper, and I can tell he's struggling with everything. I nod at JP, and he moves past us to his room.
Harris's eyes scan over to where I'm consoling Bret, and I can feel the storm raging battle in his mind. With wide eyes, he gives me a look to confirm what JP had said.
"Let's go to bed, Rebel." She nods as I lead her to my room.
We both quietly strip out of our clothes as we climb into bed. Sliding under the covers, we lie skin-to-skin. No words are said as she curls against my chest, and I wrap my arms around her, cocooning her to my body. Our thoughts swirl around the room as no words are spoken.
Why does it feel like we've taken five steps backward?